Sometimes in the insane rush to meet deadlines (that once-every-three-weeks column has a tendency to sneak up on you), mistakes have been made that should never have made it to press. For this, my editors are entirely to blame. But I will be the bigger man and accept partial responsibility for errors that I had very little to do with. Here are some recent boners that have made it past my thorough, research-intensive approach of making crap up the night before my column is due. I’ve included some wacky outtakes of me cracking up while writing the column, as well as some sports bloopers like vomiting during softball (Why? Why did God make grain alcohol so delicious?) and me taking one in the nuts from an errant football.
I would like to apologize for some of the comments made in my recent political column-”Those Wacky Liberals!”-sometimes when talking politics it’s easy to be swept up in closed-minded partisan bickering and irrational hyperbole, and nowhere is this point more apparent than in my latest column wherein I called for the beheading of all white women. I was way out of line, and all I can say in my defense is: Oops. Also, in the same article I referred to Rush Limbaugh as “that drug-addled, language-murdering, necrophiliac fat-ass who should be shot in the face until he agrees to stop being such a douche on national radio.” While largely accurate, there is no conclusive evidence to indicate that Limbaugh is a necrophiliac.
According to the recently released verdict in the D.C. sniper case, a Virginia Beach jury determined that John A. Mohammed was guilty for the shooting deaths of 10 people last year. Actor Tom Berenger was not involved. Mr. Berenger only acted in the movie Sniper; he has not been directly linked to any murderous, month-long rampages, nor has he ever left a trail of carnage and dead bodies in his wake. Yet.
Some readers take umbrage with the saucy and ribald language that is sometimes used to spice up the column. For example in a recent column, (“Georgetown is Great!” Sept. 18) many people complained about the wording of the phrase “God, I just love this place, Georgetown is fucking great!” I now realize that it is never appropriate to use the word fuck for any reason. Even though the word looks and sounds like most other words it is different. It is a bad word. And bad words should never be used at any time or for any reason, since they make people feel bad, and the point of journalism is to make people feel good, not bad. Honestly, I’m so fucking sorry this mistake made it to print I could just shit myself.
While the media was busy electing Arnold Schwarzeneggar governor of California, I was trying my hardest to discredit someone who I saw as not just inept and obnoxious, but also a sexist pig with no respect for members of the opposite sex. However, I was a little hasty in claiming that Arianna Huffington groped me in an inappropriate manner, as I have never come in contact with the syndicated columnist. She has also never, contrary to my claim in a recent article, “drunkenly forced her tongue down my throat while pinning me to a pool table with her leathery body.” Yet.
In the weeks and months following the Cardinal Francis Arinze debacle, I wrote many excoriating letters to the Voice indicating my indignation and anger at them for daring to formulate opinions of their own and take an editorial stance opposed to my ultra-conservative Catholic views. Questioning the anachronistic beliefs and mistranslated, misinterpreted myths of sheep herders that lived thousands of years ago is un-Catholic and mocks the family. In my rage to point out the Voice’s mistake, I erred in saying, “Even though it is an institution that routinely condones the rape of children at the hands of its own priests, it still has the moral authority to condemn homosexuals because it says its OK to do that in the Bible, a book which is not in the least bit outdated and is infallible if you don’t count all the mistakes.” This statement is misleading. It gives the specious impression that all priests rape children, when the percentage is probably more like a quarter or half of them.
In my Oct. 7 column-”Anorexia: the silent killer”-I mentioned that the secret ingredient in my extra-chewy chocolate chip cookies was love, when in fact the secret ingredient is sodium benzoate and bull testosterone. So I guess I was half right.
And if you’ve read this drivel all the way through I owe you the biggest apology of all. Now get off my lawn.
Scott Matthews is a junior in the College and associate editor of The Georgetown Voice. All your base are belong to him, what you say?!
